The scream echoed down the corridor like a freight train through a tunnel. Black robed occupants with Roman Clerical collars, cracked their doors slightly, wide and fearful eyes peered through the cracked doorway, and immediately slammed shut as another shriek rolled down the hallway. The scream was blood curling, it sounded neither human, nor did it sound like a scream of pain....it was a scream of pure rage.

At the end of the hallway double wooden doors, darkened with age and nearly glass-like with polished care, rocked savagely on their steel hinges by some unseen force behind. Four priest stood outside the doors, but it was not rosary beads nor bibles that they held in their hands, but Beretta AR-70/223 and AR-70/90 assault rifles, it was almost an assault on the senses to see fully robed priest standing at rigid attention with such firepower in their hands. But even these well-trained soldiers of the Vatican Special Forces glanced nervously at one another with each raging scream and rattle of the doors.

If the armed priests were a shock, then the scene behind the doors would surely make one insane. The room was cavernous, four pillars of solid marble stood from floor to ceiling some one hundred feet above the large circular room. Tiered rows of granite seating surrounded the large central stage, where a bright blue glowing sigil seemed to be etched in the flooring, the energy of the sigil flowing with a soothing water like effect.

But what stood in the middle of the sigil was far from soothing. The creature was hideous, large ebony black misshapen horns on it's equally misshapen triangular head swung back and forth as it's dog-like snout with rotted teeth screamed, belching gouts of flame and odorous sulfuric smoke. The creature's thin and twisted humanoid body swayed back and forth, long spindly arms with thin fingers tipped with jagged broken black nails lashed out at the edges of the sigil that seemed to keep it at bay within.

In the shadows a small pinpoint of a red ember flared and then faded slightly followed by a plume of smoke that blew into the face of the demon, further enraging it and causing it to leap at the burning ember of light in the dark. It's misshapen body slams into a invisible barrier that gives off a bright blue flare of light.

"You know, your mother would not approve of your language in the House of God like that." A voice speaks from the darkness. "Then again, your mother is probably some crack addicted whore that overdosed, gave birth to you, and now sucks demon dicks on the 3rd Circle of Hell."

A man wearing dark tinted sunglasses, steps from the shadows and walks up and snubs out his cigarette on the barrier, which sends out a tiny circular blue wave on contact. He immediately pulls a pack of Silk Cut cigarettes from the inside pocket of his somewhat wrinkled suit jacket, taps the pack and pulls out a fresh cigarette and lights it with a gold ornately ruin etched lighter. He reaches up and loosens his tie slightly, cigarette dangling in the corner of his mouth. "As for ole' Asmo'." His lips curl into a smirk. "When I'm done with you, you can tell him that I said ...He took the wager, he lost...cry me a river and then build a bridge and get fucking over it."

"I bet ole' Satan is still pissed off at Asmo for losing that bet." The man chuckles to himself. "It's not everyday he has to release a soul that used his own twisted rules against him. Fucking amateurs."

"Constantine! You are in the House of the Lord! Watch your tongue!" A voice cries out from one of the shadowed tiers of the round theater.

"Father, how many times do I have to tell you, my name is not Constantine, it's Donovan Hawkins." he replies with a heavy sigh.

The Father steps from the shadows to Constantine's side. "My son, you are one of only the few that have been able to escape the Pits of Hell, you have been given a second chance by the mercy of God. The legacy of John Constantine is the mantle of burden that you must bear to pay for the gift that the Lord has given you. You are destined for great things in his name."

"Really, gee...what a swell guy God is." Constantine draws deeply on his cigarette and then blows the smoke in the Father's face. "I was perfectly fine on the First Circle with the boys. I mean Homer, Caesar, Plato and the rest of the Pedo Boys were a blast to be around...if you like that kinda thing. I'm sure you will fit right in when your time comes...Father."

"Am I Father?" Constantine looks at him with a smile...a knowing smile. "Look Father, you called me...remember. So obviously you know I have the skills, and you need me for this little shindig and rid you of laughing boy over there. Which begs me to ask again...how exactly did you get this smoldering lump of hellspawn shit here again?"

The anger fades quickly from the Father's face and is replaced by an expression of embarrassment. "That is none of your concern Constan..."

"Father, so help me God, you call me that name again and I'm to stuff your bible so far down your throat, you'll have to put your reading glasses over your asshole to read it." Constantine's blue eyes stare over the rim of the sunglasses, and their expression is all the Father needs to see to know he means it. "Now....where is the book?"

"Wh...what book do you speak of? I have no..." The Father stammered out.

Constantine reached out and grabbed the Father by his rosary beads, twisting them around his hand, which in turn tightened on the Father's throat. "Listen you pious bastard. The Testament of Solomon is the only way you could have summoned this ugly fuck here. Your God Damn lucky I was able to put that sigil down to trap it before it ran helter skelter through your little church and got out. Now....where is the fucking grimoire?!" He twisted the beads even tighter.

“Donovan.” A voice called out, and the man turned, along with the priest, who was grasping at the rosary to try to let some air in. “Let the priest go. He’s not going to tell you where the book is.”

A woman dressed in a nun’s vestments stepped into view. She smiled at the man and walked forward, hands folded in prayer. The vestments hid everything about the woman, which, all things considered, had been the object of the vestments in the first place. “Donovan, I said to let the priest go.” She said, her voice soft, and almost angelic. “That’s no way to treat a man of God.”

“Man of God my fucking ass.” Donovan replied.

She sighed. “You could at least not curse in the presence of a lady.”

He gave her a look.

“As to the Testament of Solomon, I’m sure it’s somewhere here, if that is what you’re interested in obtaining.” She said, and withdrew her arms into her robes. When they reemerged, she had the book in one of her hands. “I don’t suppose this might be what you’re looking for?” She asked.

Donovan raised an eyebrow at Sister Beatrice and then released the Father, whom took a long gasp of air. He eyed her with suspiciousness, especially since she was smoking hot, the nun vestment doing nothing to hide the shapely figure underneath, nor taking away from the natural beauty of her face that belonged on the cover of Maxim magazine. He shook his head in mock sadness. "Such a waste..." He murmured to himself.

The other reason for his suspiciousness was the fact that he could both see and feel a powerful mystical energy flowing from her, and when he grasp the book from her hands, the flow of energy with the book acting as a conduit was like a jolt to his system. "Nun my ass...Sister." He smiled wryly.

"As for the Man of God, the only purpose that he would have need of the Testament of Solomon is so he could attempt to summon this demon, control it, and then use it to do his bidding for whatever twisted logic he needed it for. The Covenant between God and Satan strictly forbids demons and devils from wandering our world...but...if one is summoned by a living soul 'purposefully', such as our good Father here has done, then all bets are off."

He turns to the Father. "Which begs the question...what did the good Father have in store for said Demon?"

He fell silent when Beatrice held up a finger, before pulling back, and keeping the book in her possession. "There's an easy way to figure this out and a hard way." She said. She reached out and slid the back of her hand on Donovan's cheek. "The easy way is you just tell us. The hard way is that Donovan takes that cigarette and the side of your neck doesn't look so nice afterwards." She said. Then she paused. "Donovan, remind me to have a conversation with you later about nicotine. It's horrible for your health."

"Do you two...know each other?" The priest asked.

"No." Beatrice replied. "I've never met him before in my life, but I'm still concerned for his health. Smoking is horrible and it does horrible things to the body." She said. "But we're getting off topic. Your answer, Padre?" She asked.

"I...I..." The priest said and stammered, looking between Constantine and Beatrice.

"You leave me no choice." Beatrice said. Staring into the man's eyes, she moved her lips, quickly. Faster than anyone could read them. There was silence in the church for a few moments, and then her eyes went wide. "Eres un demonio, que se merece a pudrirse en el infierno por esto. Que Dios no tiene piedad de tu alma, mientras que quema por tus pecados. Dices que eres un sacerdote?" Beatrice said, dropping into Spanish. "You would use a demon from Hell to torment poor children, your altar boys? Donovan. Kill this man." She said, before turning, her eyes watering as she clutched the book to her chest.

"And people still believe and worship fuckers like this guy." Donovan steps towards the Father, the shadows of the room seem to tighten around him, his narrow stubble covered face takes on a shadowed gaunt appearance that actually takes on an almost demonic look. His voice takes on a echoed and menacing tone as he walks slowly and methodically towards the priest. "You are a base defiler, one who is most unclean! There is a special place held for you in the Sixth Circle of Hell, one that..." Suddenly he coughs several times, the shadows quickly revert back into their norm, and Donovan coughs into his fist in front of his mouth.

"*cough*...you may be...*cough*...right...*cough*...about the...*cough*...smokes." He says with a wry smile towards Beatrice. "Fuck it, we'll do it the old fashion way." He removes the lighter from his jacket pocket and flips it to Beatrice. "When I tell you, light the book and throw it at the barrier."

The demon suddenly screams in sheer rage at what Donovan says. "Nooo! You cannot destroy the book you soulless cur! It is one of the last of but a handful of Summoning books for our kind!"

"Guess your going to have to find another Travel Agent then...huh?" Donovan smirks.

"No! The demon is right! You cannot destroy the book! It is hundreds of years old, to destroy it would be sacrilege!" The priest pleads as he falls to his knees.

"Or it could be the fact that if the book is destroyed, both you, as the summoner, and the demon will be plunged into the Abyss for eternity." Beatrice smiles wickedly.

"Torch it." Donovan says. "I can't think of two better folks to that should spend eternity in the nothingness together."

Beatrice caught the lighter and looked at it. It was quite pretty, and she smiled at the runes that were inscribed on it. They weren't that old, but she could read them very well. Her eyes on the demon, she uncapped it, and the flame appeared. Holding it up, she brought it closer to the book.

"Please...don't do it. Don't do it!"

"Not really seeing a reason why I shouldn't."

The demon's face, which had almost tried to shift into something close to begging, changed to a snarl. "I'll kill you, wench. I'll rip out your spine, and spit on your intestines as I stomp them beneath my feet. I'll let the hordes of Hell itself rape you until you're-"

Both the demon and the priest screamed in unison as the blazing tome struck the barrier surrounding the demon. The covenants regarding the rules of demon summoning were first and foremost on the both the priest's and demon's minds. If the summoning device is destroyed both the demon and the summoner, connected and bound together, would be thrown into the Eternal Abyss together, never to walk the lands of Hell, Heaven, nor Earth again.

Only the Demon had one chance, to return to his plane of existence, never again to be able to leave that realm for the remainder of its existence. The demon knew this, but worse...the priest knew this as well.

The catch?

The Priest, being bound to the demon, would accompany the demon as well. "NOOOOOOO!!" The priest shrieked in anguish and terror.

The demon's cold red blazing eyes stared at Donovan, pure hatred and rage filled them brightly as he muttered an incantation and began to fade away, along with the crying and sobbing priest.

"You will rue the day...Constantine... that you trifled with Lord Asmodaeus. His fury will only be fueled by your interference in his endeavors!"

"Well, give your idiot master these for me." Donovan said as he reached into both his front pants pockets, seemed to rummage around for a second and then pulled out his hands with nothing in them, but showing the demon is two middle fingers. "I got these on sale, so he can have them."

Demon and priest alike screamed in rage and anguish and disappeared with a sudden brilliant flash of crimson fire and smoke.

Beatrice stepped up to Donovan, both looking at the place where the two were just occupying. "How do you think they will feel when they are told that the book I sat on fire is just an old leather bound book of recipes for Goat and Sheep meats?"

Donovan had to smirk and reached down, pulling up the hem of Beatrice's nun habit, with no regard for modesty, and picked up the Testament of Solomon that he slid under there, while using his perfect sleight of hand to switch the two books. He then looked at Beatrice, smirk firmly in place, as he took his lighter out of her hand. "You know, I looked high and low, search every place I know...and you know what?"

"What?" Beatrice replied

"I just can't find a fuck to give." Donovan turned and began to walk towards the double doors. "Thanks for the help ...Sister. Let me know how the habit goes for you. Waste of talent if you ask me." Using his other hand he produced a cigarette, lit it and blew a cloud of smoke for him to walk through.

"You don't know that much about me, do you, Constantine?" She asked, and then did her lip moving thing again. The cigarette went out and the lighter flew from his hands to her outstretched one. "I wasn't kidding about the smoking." She added, as she started to walk after him. Beatrice smiled, as she passed him. "You never know, I just might be inspiration to you." She said. "We should see about the boys that he was keeping against their will. No doubt their parents are concerned about them."

Donovan stopped in his tracks, sighed heavily and then without missing a beat, produced another cigarette, and lit it with a normal Bic lighter from his pants pocket. "Listen Sister, I don't recall you giving birth to me, nor when I asked you to become my personal guardian angel, but my name is not Constantine, the sooner you get that through your pretty little head the better."

He then continued on, taking a long pull from his cigarette and then tapping the ashes in front of Beatrice. "Watch your step.." He said non-chalantly.

Beatrice suddenly stumbles over some invisible step on the floor where Donovan dropped his ashes, and in one quick, almost too fast for the eye to follow move, snatches the lighter from her hand and then steps over to what looks like a bare patch of flooring. He kneels down and inspects the seemingly seamless floor. "And for your information Toots, I'm no slouch myself. There is a wise old saying...I think it was a crack dealer on 4th Street...'Don't fuck with wrinkled suited white guys that smoke too much.'

Taking another long draw on the cigarette, he blows the smoke over an area of the flooring. The smoke rolls along the floor, and then suddenly gets sucked down into an almost imperceptible part in the wooden floor. He points at the spot and smiles wryly at Beatrice. "See...the benefits of smoking." He then steps over examines the surrounding area and stomps on the floor at a specific spot.

An manhole sized square of flooring suddenly drops and then slides into the underside of the opening. The stench that follows would most certainly have caused a normal person to immediately lose their breakfast, but Donovan merely waves his hand over the opening. "Damn, smells like somebody had Curry for dinner down there and lost it."

He looks at Beatrice with a grin and gestures to the ladder that extends down to a dimly lit floor below. "Ladies first."

“Still not healthy.” Beatrice said. She went over to the edge and looked down. Then she looked at him, and saw the smile that was on his face. “A true gentleman would go first, to ensure that there is no evil that would prey on a lady.” She said.

“I’m not sure where you were going with that.” Donovan said.

“I was just making a statement. I’m fairly certain you’re not going to go down first.” She said. Then she smirked. “No, on second thought, you might.” She said, and then giving him a wink, Beatrice dropped down through hole, moving down the ladder. Her eyes were starting to adjust when Donovan joined her. “Now, let’s get the children and get out of here. Hopefully we won’t need to coerce anyone else. Which reminds me. A few months ago, I heard a rather interesting story about you and Asmodeous. Care to tell me about it?”

It didn't take them long to find the hidden room where the children were being kept. Four boys, in various states of worsening condition were huddled in a corner, their faces masks of fear. They looked up, almost as one when the two entered the room.

"Who...who are you?" One of the boys asked, through cracked lips. One of his eyes was swollen and he tried to look at the two of them through it. His British accent cut through, unmistakenable though.

"We're friends." Beatrice said, taking a step towards them. "The man who did this to you, he's gone. We're going to get you out of here." She said.

They shrunk back.

"It's the nun outfit." Donovan said. "Looks like the good father birthed a group of non-trusting athiests." He said.

Beatrice nodded and shed the outfit, revealing a black tank top and a black pair of leather pants. Black hair and blue eyes that had become sympathetic and empathetic. "I'm not really a nun." She said, and then crouched, her lips moving silently. She cast a spell that would enable the boys to trust her more.

One of them started crying and then ran forward into her arms. She hugged him tightly and then looked up at Donovan. "Get us out of here, Donovan."

Even Donovan stopped in his tracks as he looked upon her non-nun outfitted self, raising an eyebrow in appreciation. "Not really a Nun huh? No shit? Wow, you had me fooled the moment I saw you..." The sarcasm in his voice was almost visceral.

Turning to one of the boys. "Come here kid, I want you to help me with a magic trick."

The boy, still in shock and weary of the new strangers, looked at the other boys and then to Beatrice, who nodded to him that it was ok with a warm reassuring smile. Tentatively the boy stepped towards Donovan. "Come on kid, I'm not going to bite you." Donovan prodded the boy, his voice was almost kind in a smartassed kind of way. When the boy got close enough, Donovan reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a medium sized paint brush, the hairs of which looked to be made of straw, and the wooden handle appeared worn as if from ages of use, but the most strange of all is that the brush looked far to long and big to have been in the pocket of Donovan's jacket.

"This brush is a special magical brush." Donovan began to explain, as he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and the shirt underneath to expose his forearm. "Back in it's day, this was a very special brush used by a man named Joshua, and he used it to ...well...paint doors to help people, and protect them from bad things." He turned a golden two-headed snake ring on his index finger around so the snake heads were palm side of his hand, and then grasped his forearm. A small trickle of blood flowed from between his clenched fingers, that for a moment the boy took a step back from fright. "No, no, Kid, I'm fine. Take the brush."

The boy cautiously took the brush from Donovan, while he squeezed his forearm causing more blood to flow and make a small pool on the floor. When Donovan took his hand away from his forearm, there was not a mark to show that he had been injured at all. "See, I'm fine." He said to reassure the boy. "Now, take the brush and rub it in the pool there." Pointing at the blood.

"Mister....I'm ...I'm afraid." The boy stammered.

"Tell you the truth, so was I the first time I did this." Donovan stated with a smirk.

"Listen Hot Topic girl, the boy needs to learn to stand up to fear, especially his own. He can do this." Donovan snapped back.

"O..Ok, I'll try." The boy said and rubbed the old straw brush in the pool of blood.

"That a boy, I have faith in you." Donovan smiled spitefully to Beatrice, then looked back at the boy. "Now, draw me a nice big door on the wall there." He pointed to the dirt and foul stained wall in front of him.

This time even the boy turned his head and gave him a quizzical look, as if seeing if the man was a crazed as the Priest. Donovan sighed at the boys look. "Just do it kid"

The boy stepped to the wall and slowly traced a somewhat jagged blood red lined door in the wall, complete with a blood red circle for a door knob. "Don't forget the keyhole." The boy complied and made another round circle below the knob, but left the center of it unpainted.

"Nice." Donovan said and then pulled out a large ancient key that looked like one that unlocked old castle doors, handed it to the boy. "Now, unlock the door."

The boy resigned himself to the fact that this stranger man was indeed mad, but pressed the old key to the painted keyhole, but his resignation turned quickly to stunned shock as there was a brief flash of blue light and when there eyes cleared there before them stood magnificent brown oaken door, complete with etchings that made a strange crisscrossing pattern that glowed with a dull green hue.

Donovan smiled at the looks on everyone's face and then stepped over to the door and opened it. "Women and Children first." He gestured to the unknown inside.

“And the walls of Jericho trembled.” Beatrice said, walking through the doorway, still holding one of the children. One of the other boys had grabbed her free hand and she took the two of them, followed by the other two boys and then Donovan. They entered a room in a house, and from the looks of it, the house was in poor shape. Dilapidated furniture and there was more than one partially empty pizza box lying around. “Charming, in the non-traditional sense of the word.” She said. Setting the boys down, she turned and looked at him. “Do you have bedrooms in here?” She asked.

He nodded and pointed down a hallway.

“Boys, follow me.” She said. “Tell me what you guys like to eat, and I’m sure we’ll be able to scrounge it up for you.” She said.

“Bangers and Mash.” One of them said and the others nodded.

She smiled. “Done."

Roughly twenty minutes later, the boys were in bed, having been properly fed. Beatrice was in the room with the pizza boxes and was surveying the state of the place. “You live here?” She asked.

Donovan nodded. “Comfy, isn’t it?” He asked.

“I suppose.” She said. Sighing slightly, Beatrice sat down on one of the couches, only to find one of the springs poking her in the lower back. “What in the-” She rose and then turned on the couch. “Xif flesyuoy thgir siht tnemom, ro ni eht hsart si erehw re’uoy gniog.” She said. The couch shimmered and then reappeared, brand new. “That’s better.” Beatrice said and then resumed sitting.

The house suddenly shuttered, the creaking walls shimmied violently, moans and groans echoed through the room, while the books that lined the shelves danced and fluttered. The shifting floor shook Beatrice so violently, that she could barely even speak.

"M.m.m.m.make i.i.i.i.it s.s.s.sstoppp!" Beatrice stuttered.

"Abel doesn't like houseguests that walk into his house like some Good Housekeeping critic and bad mouth his interior decorating." Donovan smirked as he sat in a rocking chair that was perfectly still. For that matter Beatrice noticed that the children obviously weren't being effected either, as if they were, they would be screaming and crying.

"D.d.d.d.do yyyyouuu meeeaaan Abbbeelll...."

"Sweety your going to give yourself an aneurism." Donovan smiled, almost on the verge of of laughing. "Yes, toots, your in the House of Mystery, and Abel's feelings can be hurt 'very' easily."

Donovan gives her a few more seconds of Abel's emotional hurt. "Abel, she's 'very' sorry, she didn't know any better." Donovan raises his voice, as if speaking to the house itself. "You know I love your decorating, but for the sake of the kids, could we get the Hampton's style please?"

"You are the owner of the house Constantine, your will is of course granted." The voice seems to come from everywhere, old, feeble like, much like the look of the house now, ancient.

"Your a peach Abel." Donovan smiles, not seeming to care that the voice calls him by his Constantine name.

Suddenly the room itself transforms, fine carpeting wall to wall, meticulously cleaned wood accents abound. The walls and library shelves gleam with polished and finely etched woodwork, with books and tomes both ancient and new bound in fine leather. The chairs, sofa and tables are equal to the elegance that now permeates throughout the living room. A beautiful stone worked fireplace appears in the near wall, a burst of flame, and the wood settles into a comfortable warmth that fills the room.

"I thought I woman of your stature would have better manners." Donovan smirks at Beatrice, as he takes a apple from the bowl on the end table and begins to peel the skin from it with a knife he produces from his pocket.

"And here I thought that you wouldn't want to live in a pigsty." She said. The house groaned. "Well, I don't blame you. You're just listening to him. For the record, I've been told wonderful things about you from Noel Gabriele." She said. At the sound of the name the house relaxed. "He said that some of the best times he's ever had were in this house. Some of the card games went up all hours." Beatrice said. "Donovan, there is something I needed to speak to you about." She said.

"No, I'm not quitting smoking."

"We'll discuss that nasty habit later. This is something of dire importance." She rose and walked towards him, stepping in close, very close. "I was wondering if you had pancakes." She said. "I'm starving, and they're my favorite." Her blue eyes twinkled. "I'd be really very grateful. Honest."

"You know, it was one of those very card games that won me the key to this humble abode." Donovan stated as he stood from his chair and enters into the kitchen area. "Father Time was actually there as well. Nice old bird...but he cheats." Donovan's voice comes from the kitchen where Beatrice can hear doors being opened and closed and what sounds like a whisk being used in a glass bowl. After a few minutes the smell of fresh made pancakes waft out of the kitchen area, along with the sweet smell of fresh maple syrup.

"As for Noel." Donovan says behind Beatrice, who is now suddenly coming down the stairs. "That guy is a major bluffer. He once got me to fold trip Jacks, and all he had was a pair of deuces. The guy was a master of the bluff. Something about his stern countenance, I don't know."

Beatrice looked from the kitchen to where Donovan now stands at the bottom of the stairs. "What?" Donovan asks. "You didn't think I was going to make them myself do you? Do I look like fucking Gordon Ramsey?"

Brief confusion lines her face, but then the fresh smell of pancakes gets the better of her and she moves to the dining area. When she enters, her face takes on the look of a child waking up to presents on a Christmas morning. At the end of a long and elegant oak table, a stack of pancakes nearly two feet high sits on a plate. Butter, fresh made whip cream, and a small boat of maple syrup sit next to a plate with all the utensils.

"Bon' appetite" Donovan says as he sits at the other end of the table, putting his feet up on the edge of it, blowing a plume of smoke high into the air.

"I would say that you should keep your feet off the table but I guess Abel is alright with it. And you did make me the pancakes." Beatrice said, cutting into one of them and starting to eat. "Not bad, Donovan." She said. Sitting back in her chair she regarded him. "So, why don't you like the name Constantine, anyway?" She asked. "It's not that bad."

Donovan leaned his head back against the chair, seeming to be having a contemplative moment, and with a sigh of resignation he took another drag from his cigarette and then lit another off the embers of it, before snuffing it out in a ashtray.

"Only because you'll bug the shit outta me if I don't tell you, I'll give you this much. I know that John Constantine put up the good fight back during the invasion." He smiled for a moment at the thought of what Constantine accomplished. "Do you know what it took for him to actually convince both God 'and' Satan to do. Shit! He bamboozled them both to actually work together and give him their Eternal power for 1 second."

Beatrice's eyes widened as the implications began to set in. "He...he didn't.."

"OH, but he did. For one whole second, John Constantine had the powers of God and Satan. Won, by the draw from a deck of cards. And you want to know the killer part about that?"

Beatrice nodded eagerly as she shoveled in another piece of pancake, She was as attentive as a person watching a horror movie and eating popcorn during the part where you 'know' that something is about to jump from the darkness in the closet..

"He didn't even have to cheat. He won a game of High Card and pulled the Ace of Spades against the two most powerful beings in the Universe."

"NO!" Beatrice exclaimed incredulously.

"Yep. Lucky bastard." Donovan shook his head at the thought. "Do you know what having even 1 second of the Eternal Power means?"

"Well, I kinda..."

"No sweets." Donovan interrupted. "No, you 'really' don't. 1 second with that power is an eternity. The Universe was created in a second. Now think about all that was created in that one second. Really...think about it. Everything that we know. Air, wind, colors, languages, dirt, molecules, atoms, sex, love, anger, life...the list goes on forever. Literally. Just try and wrap your head around that."

"The Earth was doomed, the Chrell were 'this' close..." He held his index finger and his thumb a few centimeters from each other. "..to wiping mankind from existence. He could have reshaped the Universe into whatever he wanted, he could have made black into white. Resurrected everyone, wiped the Chrell from existence so that they never attacked us. So much power, in the hands of a mere mortal."

"You know what he did with that power?" There was a incredulous look on his face, as if even he couldn't believe what he did.

Beatrice stared almost entranced by Donovan's story.

"Well, you see, it was the night before the final assault on the Chrell by members of Task Force 141."

Beatrice looked at him quizzically.

"I'm not surprised you don't know about them. Suffice to say, they were a pretty pivotal group that was comprised of both humans and supers..Constantine was one of them. Anyway...it was the night before the final assault on the Chrell's Mothership, and the group was gathered together for a final mission brief. Sheppard finishes the rundown and then opens the floor for anyone to speak."

"John stood up, told them what he had done, and that he was about to call upon his favor from both God and Satan to aid them in battle"

Beatrice leaned forward over here plate, so intensely listening that her appetite for the pancakes was far from her mind.

"And do you know what that son of a bitch called on when he got the power?"

Beatrice could only shake her head slowly, so enraptured with what he was saying.

"He created a round of beer for everyone on the task force."

The fork and knife fell from Beatrice's hands, her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Bullshit..."

"No, that is what happened. I swear to Satan to himself, right now, to come and take my very soul if what I just told you isn't the truth." Donovan then stood, closed his eyes, and raised his arms as if to welcome Satan to take him.

After a moment, he opened one eye, looked around and saw that he was still there. And even Beatrice could not resist looking around as if waiting from Lucifer himself to show up and take Donovan away.

Donovan sat back down and continued. "Anyway...the next day the task force launched their assault, and while it was hard fought, not a single member of the task force lost their life."

"You see he swore to them as they drank their beers that it was a special concoction that would protect them, and give them the power to win. Even though they all were telling him just to make the Chrell disappear, he knew he couldn't do that. Reality has a way of fucking up things where you mess with existences of races or even a single person, and Constantine knew that."

"But he promised them, if they drank the beer, that they would win...and they did."

"Incredible." Beatrice said under her breath. "With the Eternal Power, he created an invulnerability potion so they could win the war."

"No." Donovan smirked. "He created an excellent German Hefeweizen Beer that was, I was told, the best beer that anyone had ever tasted before in their lives."

"Yes, the ultimate power in the Universe, and he created a round of German beer, normal brewed, German beer." Donovan had to laugh out loud. "They all went out there and won the war because of the greatest scam ever pulled in the world, and by the man that pulled it off without a hitch. Something, that I would 'never' be able to duplicate."

"But...but what the hell did he do with the 1 second of Eternal Power?" Still stunned Beatrice asked.

"Well, no one knows, but there is still the catch to a mortal having that kind of power...even for one second." Donovan said, and his smiled faltered slightly. "Once used, the mortal shell will disintegrate into the nothingness. Whatever he did with the power, he took it with him.".

"Well, that explains why you don't want to be called Constantine." Beatrice said.

"I got a question of my own." He said. "Why pancakes?" He asked. "Kind of a weird thing to call your favorite food."

"It's complicated." She said, her voice getting softer for the first time.

"I bared my soul." He said.

"No, you told me a story. One that I don't know is true or not. You could have been making the whole thing up. You did not bare your soul." Beatrice said.

Donovan just stared at her and waited, the smoke curling upwards from yet another Silk Cut.

"Fine. It...it was the last thing my mother ever made for me, before she died." Beatrice said. "She was killed in an...an altercation. I don't like to talk about it." She said, her voice getting small. Leaning back in the chair, she regarded him. "What are we going to do with the children?" She asked. "We need to get them back to their parents.

"Aww, you caught me." Donovan smirked. "While I did not bare my soul, the story that I told you is the truth, and it was an answer to your question of why I don't like to be called him. Ask Abel, he'll tell you."

"He does tell the truth Mistress." The disembodied voice states.

"See?" Donovan give Beatrice a waning smile. "As far as the children go, Abel will send them back via the House while they are sleeping. They will wake up in their own beds, with only a vague remembrance of that fucking hellhole, their parents will rejoice, the police will be dumbfounded, and all will be right in foggy ole' London."

He lights up another Silk, a contemplative look crosses his face, before he looks back towards Beatrice. "Now. The real question is, 'why are we having this meeting? There is an old Chinese saying '有没有这样的机会的事情，这是有原因的 切 ' (There is no such thing as chance, there is a reason for everything). Meaning...why are you here with me?"

"An old friend suggested that I meet you." Beatrice said. She smiled and then waved a hand over her face. If she could have gotten more beautiful, more gorgeous, she did. "Noel Gabriele, to be exact. Also warned me against playing baccarrat with you. Said he saw Oriuth lose a few thousand Yuan to you, in China." She said, the second name she said coming with a distinct edge of scorn. "He said that there's something coming on the horizon when it comes to folks who utilize magic, and that I may need your help." She said. "Obviously, my name is not Beatrice."

"I think I recognize you." Donovan said, though it wasn't obvious if he was being sincere or sarcastic.

Donovan actually smiled a bit, though in a smarmy sort of way. "I know who you are Zat. Few things get past the ole' peepers, plus the fact it's my job to keep an eye on you ultra-powerful voodoo folks...or so I'm told."

"And it was a few hundred thousand Yuan from your friend Oriuth. And 'no'.." He said pointing two fingers, with a cigarette between them. "..I did not cheat. It's one of the things that most annoys me about you mystical folk. Always thinking that I'm cheating."

"How is old Noel?" He asked smiling, as if remembering one of the few good memories in the dark library of his mind.

"He's actually doing quite well. He seems to have quite a fondness of you, though he won't tell me why." Zatanna said.

"Let's just say that some things are better left unsaid. I've done a favor or two for him, and him for me." Smoke rolls from his lips as he speaks, the curls and wisps of which almost seem to form the shape of some demonic figure, but then dissipates before Zatanna can think further on it. "And he's right, I'm not perfect, but baccarat I am the King."

"So, I believe that Noel is calling in a favor from the sound of things. What exactly are we talking about when you say 'you may need my help'?"

Zatanna bit her lip, chewing on it slightly. Not realizing that it was a provocative gesture for one such as her, even if it wasn't intended to be that way. "That's a bit of an interesting story." She said. “But I guess we’ve got the time.” She said. “A few days ago, I received a package on my front door step. No return address, just my name. Not even my real name, but Zatanna. No one knows my address. All fan mail and things like that goes to my agent.” She said, poking at a pancake, absentmindedly. “Open up the package and there’s a piece of torn red cloth in there. Dried blood is on it.” She said.

“That’s not really that interesting.” He said. “Mildly creepy.”

“Right. At first I thought stalker. Someone hacked a computer in my agent’s office, got my home address. But the cloth felt weird. It’s powerful, magic wise.” She said. “So I did some scrying on it, psychometry, the basics.” She trailed off.

“What’d you find?” He asked.

“It’s from Stephen Strange’s cloak.” Zatanna said, looking up at him. “The blood was a perfect match, DNA testing wise.” She added. “He’s been dead for eighteen years. Who could’ve had his cloak this whole time?” She asked. “Noel seemed pretty shook up by it, and I haven’t seen him like that too often.”

For the first time Zatanna sees something in the expression on Donovan's face, a fleeting look, one that if she hadn't been watching for his reaction, she would have missed it completely. It was a look of fear.

"What?" Zatanna asks, her eyebrow raised.

"Where is the piece?" Donovan ignores her question.

"It's at my house. What the hell is wrong?"

Donovan rises quickly from his chair and quickly walks over to the vast array of books in the library off to the side of the dining area. Standing before the large wall of shelves with books, tomes and various leather bound stories. Slowly he scans the various book binding, reading the many titles in many different languages and runes. He then leaps up on the old rolling ladder and pushes off on a shelf, causing the ladder to roll upon it's rails. He stops and then pulls a book from the shelf, it's cover is so intensely black that it seems as if he is holding a squared hole in the fabric of reality.

"Dammit Donovan...."

Donovan holds up his index finger towards Zatanna, cutting her off, as he flips open the ebony book. A faint glow of light illuminates his face from the pages of the book, thin and tiny crimson bands creep out from the edges of the pages, rolling over the binding and entwine around Donovan's hands. If the bands were causing Donovan any discomfort, his face did not show it, but only continues to read from the pages. After only a few more moments, much to Zatanna's growing irritation, Donovan closed the book, carefully putting it back in it's place and jumped down from the ladder.

He walks to Zatanna, grabbing her hand and heads to the doorway. "Come on, we need to get to your place and get that piece..."

Zatanna stops in her tracks, jerking Donovan nearly off his feet. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on!"

Donovan rubs the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Listen toots. Noel sent you to me for a reason, and he knows what has begun...Jesus, I thought we would have more time." The last part he says not looking at Zatanna, and is more of a whisper to himself.

"Dono..."

"Ok, ok, ok! Jesus, Mary and fucking Joesph....all women are so god damn controlling. If you don't know, you bitch and moan until you get your way. Just open the door, and the House will take us to your place. I'll tell you everything once we get there. But first, we have to get that material."

Zatanna shook her head and looked at him. “No. Tell me now.” She said. “Noel is always trying to protect me and not give me the whole picture and I need to know what’s going on. This came to me. It didn’t go to you or to Noel. Me. That means it has something to do with me, and I have a right to know.”

“Open the door.” He said.

She shook her head.

“Look, I can’t open the door, I don’t know where we’re going. Zatanna, open the damn door.” He said.

“Fine.” She said, and opened the door. They walked out of the House and found themselves in a field in the middle of seemingly nowhere.

“What the...you said it was in your house.” He said.

“Yes. And my house has a number of different wards and enchantments on it. You can’t just go to my house. I have to let you in.” Zatanna said.

The fog slowly began to dissipate as they approached, and where once they appeared to be walking upon ethereal foggy-like air, a dark green grass appeared leading up to the distance structure ahead. Framed by what seemed to be an eternal dusk and backdropped by a dark gloomy forest, Shadowcrest sat on top of a large hill. It's ancient two-story stoney parapets and stone railings seeming to blend in with the gloomy surroundings. Dark, gloomy windows seemed to stare at them as they approached the front foyer.

Donovan even seemed impressed about the ancestral home of the Zatara Family, the history of which is well known to him, not to mention the collection of ancient and rare tomes that reside within the family library. If the situation wasn't so dire, he wished he could spend some time reading the ancient literature, but time was a luxury that he did not have.

"Nice stack of wood and stone." Donovan stated with a faux impression of non-expression.

"Your all heart Donovan. I'm sure all the issues of Home and Garden that you have read, makes you an expert on ancestral homes " Zatanna stated with a roll of her eyes, and then stepped up onto the foyer. Zatanna glanced behind her, noting that Donovan refused to step up with her. "Coming?" She asked with a bemused expression.

Donovan tilted his head to the side with a wry grin of 'do you think I'm stupid?' written upon his expression.

"You are the smart one aren't you?"

"I prefer to stay in this realm of existence, if you don't mind. I know all about Shadowcrest's protectiveness. And to answer your question...Do you think that Noel would have had you come find me, if I wasn't a smart one?"

Zatanna had to concede the point, but didn't make any effort to acknowledge it. In fact, when she though about it, it did trouble her that she didn't know what was going on, and why Noel had not trusted her to know. With her back turned to Donovan, she grimaced slightly as she realized that her pride was getting the best of her. Noel always has a reason for the what and why he did things.

"Sutats taht ot eue detaicossa sthgir lla htiw, tseug deronoh ym sa uoy ot ssecca enitnatsnoC navonoD wolla, emoH yM" Zatanna stated in her backwards speech, and then the door to the home opened, the brightly lit interior was almost blinding in its contrast to the dusky outside. "After you Donovan."

Donovan smiled and waved his hand. "Oh no you don't. Ladies first...please."

"Not a very trusting soul are you?"

"For once sweetheart, you have spoken the absolute truth."

Zatanna chuckled slightly and stepped inside, with Donovan cautiously putting his hand through the threshold of the doorway and testing the waters, and once he wasn't zapped into another dimension, he stepped though completely.

Zatanna shook her head with a smile and led him into the main room, which was adorned with various tasteful framed art, glossy woodened framed trim, and plush comfortable antique furniture. Zatanna gestured to a large oak and padded chair for Donovan to sit.

"No, the cloth."

"Damn, are you that jitter..."

"The damn cloth Zat...we really don't have time." Donovan cut her off, and this time, his expression was not so much irritation, as it was some deep concern. It was enough that she did not question it any further, as she stepped over to a glowing glass-like orb that hovered in place over a corner table. Zatanna murmured an incantation and the glow disappeared, and a slip of crimson cloth dropped to the table top.

She brought the piece of fine cloth to Donovan, and when he reached for it, she pulled it back. "No, no...you said that you would tell me what was going on when we got her. Spill it."

"Give me the cloth, and I'll do better than that."

Suspicion crept across Zatanna's face, but with some reluctance she handed him the slip of crimson cloth.

"Now...hit me in the face." Donovan said.

Zatanna without hesitation, much to Donovan's surprise, punched him with a right cross that was impressive, more so since he didn't expect her to hit him so quickly and without questioning it.

"FUCK!" Donovan protested as he stepped backwards a couple steps reeling in pain. "I can see you've been waiting to do that for a while."

Zatanna smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I just did what you asked."

With blood trickling out of his mouth, Donovan looked at her, and smiled slightly and then used the piece of material to blot the blood from his lips.

"Donovan! That is damn near sacri..."

The piece of cloth suddenly fizzed and popped with several flashes of crimson light, until it flared brightly into a crimson glowing orb with wispy tendrils of bands of crimson began wafting in the air around it creating intricate patterns. Donovan removed his hand from beneath it, and it floated in place before them.

"Oh, my...God. The Crimson Bands of Cyttorak!" Zatanna stood stunned.

"That's not all..." Donovan stated, wiping the rest of the blood from his lips with the the handkerchief that he plucked from Zatanna's jacket pocket while she was stunned.

"What...what do you mean?" Zatanna asked, unable to take her eyes away.

The answer suddenly faded into existance, as the golden gleam of the Eye of Agamatto solidified within the glowing crimson bands, followed by the ethereal form of Doctor Stephan Strange, the eye resting in it's rightful place at his ghostly neck.

"I bid you greetings Zatanna of the House Zatara. I am Stephan Strange, and I need yours and Mr. Constantine's aid in what I can only say will be the most important event in Mystical history."

With a look of mild distaste, Stephen Strange turned to look at Donovan. You wear the trappings of the man, you conduct your business like the man, and most importantly, you do the same job as the man. I hardly think that there’s a title to which you aren’t more suited.” He said.

Donovan pointed. “For a dead guy, you talk a lot.”

”One of the benefits of being dead, I don’t require oxygen anymore.”

“Now that the niceties are out of the way, Dr. Strange, could you tell us what’s going on?” Camilla asked. “I received a package with this piece of your cloak in it.” She said. “No name on it besides mine. No postage, for that matter. The packaging has no traces of magic on it, nothing that would indicate that something is going on.” Camilla added. “So what’s the most important event in mystical history?” She asked.

”That requires a complicated answer.” He said. ”When the Chrell Invasion happened, many people died. That many people dying in such a short period of time caused a wound in the mystical fields of energy that permeate the world and the universe. That’s why people like Oriuth and Noel, who weren’t as powerful as I was, became as powerful as they are now. Everything has been in flux. Now, almost twenty years later, the wound has had time to heal. Think of it as a tight knot of muscles slowly being unwound.”

“I’m following you so far.” She said.

”If you continue the analogy, then think of the wound as having sutures placed upon it, by the Vishanti. I do apologize for the medical analogies, but I was a physician. Regardless, the wound has now healed, so what is the next step?” He asked.

“The sutures would have to be removed.” Camilla replied. “I’m not seeing the problem. If the Vishanti did it once before, they can just do it again.”

“Or they want someone else to do it for them.” Donovan said, pacing around the room for a moment. “That means-”

“That means a new Sorcerer Supreme.” Camilla said, finishing the thought for him. “But what the heck could that have to do with me?” She asked.

Donovan left Camilla to ponder her own question and went up the stairs and after about half an hour curiosity got the better of her and she followed up the stairs, and immediately noticed that when she looked up the banister that there were dozens of floors above her...which was very more curious considering from the outside, the house was only a two story building.

A slight rustle of sound came from the hallway on the second level and she quietly made her way towards the sound and found one door slightly ajar. She stepped to the door and peered through the gap in the door, and what she saw made her clap a hand over her lips to muffle the sharp intake of air that was cause by what she saw.

Donovan stood shirtless before a large ornate wooden dresser that had an equally large and octagonal ornate mirror attached to it. The mirror had a dark tinted quality to it and almost liquid quality to its surface, with slight ripples from unseen raindrops dotting its surface in various places. Within the mirror itself was a wizened old face of a man, of obvious Japanese decent.

But it was not just the mirror's reflection that caused her to gasp, but the sigil that was etched on Donovan's back. Seemingly burned there, the edges of which looked still charred and glowed a dim crimson was the Mark of the Beast. Within the sigil's round edges were 3 large symbols, to which looked like the numeral 6 laid connected together to form a circle, but were in actuality ancient Sumerian letters that signified the equally ancient mark of evil. The infernal tattoo was surrounded by a bright glowing blue scar that glowed brightly, as if a ward against the evilness of the mark that it contained.

"Your time my friend is not yet ready to come to pass. You have much to atone for before you shall be released from your service." The old man's reflection stated.

"This is bullshit Yasa." Donovan stated irritably. "Noel can't be serious that I should be involved with this."

"Noel is a man of great wisdom and honor. If he does command it, it should be followed."

"I want no part of it!" Donovan said.

"Your wishes are not of concern Donovan, it is your place to take part in this, so that the balance is kept. The introduction of a new Sorcerer Supreme is not to be taken lightly, and you must..." The reflection abruptly stops, and the mirror shimmers before the image disappears and the mirror returns to that of a normal reflectiveness, and Donovan notices Camilla looking through the opening in the door.

Donovan looks at Camilla's reflection, while he quickly dons her shirt. "I figured you for the Peeping Tom type. Generally, the women throw money at this point."

Camilla mumbled something and thick large doubloons showered onto his head, causing him to rub everywhere that the coins hit. There was a possibility of a nasty bruise on his shoulder. “Here’s your money.” She said, her face appearing rather cross. “I’d heard of you before this, and the stories make you sound cutesie and stubborn and very good at what you do.”

“I’d argue cutesie, but I think you’re working towards something.”

“But this….” Camilla said, indicating everything in front of her and then reaching up and yanking his shirt up for a moment. “This…without help, is stupid. It’s one thing if you’re on a hunt, or fighting against something. But I was downstairs and I could have helped you so nothing went wrong.” She said.

“Well, nothing went wrong, so stop getting all bunched up.” Donovan said. “Why were you so worried?” He asked.

“The veil between our world and others has been pierced far too many times recently.” She said.

He nodded. “It all started about twenty years ago. Think about it, we’re missing something. Someone. The Sorcerer Supreme. Whoever has that role, it’s their job to stitch the veil up and keep the worlds separate, so that people like me can work on conning crossroads demons and beating people in Pinochle.” Donovan said. “You got the first clue downstairs.” He said.

“But I don’t know what it means, or why anyone would send it to me.” She said.

Abel’s voice was heard then. ”Constantine, it would appear that someone is attempting to breach my wards.”

It wasn’t just someone who was breaching the House of Mystery’s wards, it was a woman named Black Alice. At least, that’s what she called herself when she sold her services on the market. Had a magical problem and needed assistance? You call Black Alice. She had a rate, you paid it, and the problem got solved. She did consultations and had been around the world, earning money. Some of the work that she had done was the vanilla kind. Séances, communicating with dead pets and what not. Helping some Wiccan girl in Texas really get in touch with herself and deal with bullies, that was one of the nicer things that Black Alice had done. That was the easy stuff. It was the harder stuff that she didn’t talk about. Along with the services, you got silence.

Hard to make sure that you had repeat customers, if you spilt the beans about them all the time. Those were the customers who paid the big bucks.

That was kept her able to help other people around the world and give them discounts if she could. Alice wasn’t evil. But she was definitely loose with her morals. For example, she knew whose house this was. The client was paying her very well though to ignore the fact that the guy who lived her did a lot of good for people. But then again, that wasn’t really what she was being paid for.

She was being paid for information and for an item, both of which she had tracked back to the House of Mystery.

So break into the House, she would.

She was currently using her powers of magic usurption to steal the powers of a shaman in the Himalayas. That was one of the interesting side effects of her powers, she got to steal a random person’s powers from around the globe, if she wasn’t picking on someone in particular. It added a sense of danger and a bit of a thrill to each job, especially the more illicit ones. What was life without a little bit of danger though?

It wouldn’t take her that long to get past the wards. She’d been doing her research on the House of Mystery for a while now, but that was homework that had little to do with the job and more to do with the man who owned it. From what she was sensing, he was close by. That she had been hoping to avoid.

You know it's a bad day when you jump out of bed and miss the floor.
"I declare War!!"~Peay

"Really Alice?" Constantine's voice came from behind her. "You could have just knocked."

Alice's head spun around and found nothing but a swirl in the fog that surrounded her. "That would defeat the purpose of 'breaking in' Constantine."

"My name is not Constantine, you bloody twat. It's Donovan. I would hamstring the Pope himself if people would get that in their bloody heads." His voice wavered through the mist.

"Show yourself...Constantine, so I can touch you, and I'll show you the proper way to hamstring someone." Alice stated daringly, but still with a bit of nervousness in her voice.

"Now, now Love, even you're not that foolish. Your predecessor found out the hard way what happens when trying to take powers that she can't possible control."

"Your 'not' Satanus Constantine." Alice rebuked.

There is a sigh in the foggy mist. "The door is open Alice. Just come in before Cain takes exception to you fucking around with his wards. Besides, maybe you can keep Zatanna off my ass for a little while, she's be knackering for a shagging, and I'm just too damn tire to care."

Within the fog a bright beckoning light appears near Alice, as a large oaken door creases the shadows.

The door was open, and Alice walked through, just as Constantine had suggested for her to do so. Looking around, she saw that the place seemed warm and inviting, but she knew enough about the house to know that Cain wasn’t going to actually be that happy to have someone who had been trying to breach the wards ushered in just so. Her eyes settled on the woman sitting on one of the couches, looking back up at her. The expression on her face mirrored what Cain’s expression probably was.

“Hello, Z.” Black Alice said.

“Alice Fairchild.” Zatanna replied. “What is it that you want?” She asked.

“I was hired to retrieve something, and tracking that thing brought me here.” Alice said in reply. “So I tried to break in.”

“Emphasis on tried.” Donovan said, walking by with a bottle of Tickle Brain ale. He held another in his hands and he tossed it to Zatanna, who caught it and took the top off.

She took a swig of the beer, but made a face, barely managing to swallow the liquid down. Alice laughed slightly, as she took a seat in an easy chair and crossed her legs, looking at Zatanna.

“No class.” He said, and headed into the kitchen, to grab another one for Alice. “Alice, now that we’ve dispensed with the pleasantries, why don’t you tell us what exactly it is that you were here to steal from me?” He asked.

“Now, Donovan, why would I go and do that?” She asked, with a coy smile on her face as she accepted the beer, looking up at him. “That’s not how the game is played. I’m paid for my silence.”

“Clearly not for your skills.” He said, with a smirk and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Cain is a tough nut to crack. You gave it the old college try, I suppose. You should tell me what it is you’re after, because that’s the only way I’m going to be polite about letting you go.” Donovan said, taking a drink from his bottle of beer.

Alice smiled. “I think you’re forgetting who it is that you’re messing with.” She said. “Z has been feeling a bit woozy, she just didn’t want to tell you that.” Alice said and Donovan spared a glance at Camilla, who looked like she was either ready to fall asleep or pass right out. “After all, I dropped the Himalayan shaman’s powers…oh, about five minutes ago. She’s the most powerful magic user walking the planet, did you know that. Homo Magi is an incredible thing.” Alice said, flexing her fingers.

Donovan pursed his lips in irritation at Alice. "Ya know Love, it would have been smarter for you to have just told me what you're after, rather than mucking around with my guests." He reached into his inside coat pocket and produced his cigarettes, took one out and lit it, and replaced the pack into his inside pocket, letting his hand rest inside his coat for a moment.

"You know, those are bad for your health." Alice quipped with a smile.

Donovan whipped his hand out from his jacket, making Alice jump back and put her hand out before her in a warding gesture...that is until she noticed what he had in his hand, and then promptly began laughing again.

In his hand was a bright pink bottle, with an equally bright green screw on top. The label on the side of the bottle stated 'Bottle O'Bubbles' with the cartoonish drawing of a boy and girl holding small plastic sticks with a ring at the top, blowing bubbles from it.

"What? That's it? You going to get soap in my eyes?!"

"Yeah...something like that Love." Donovan smiled as he unscrewed the lid and pulled the little plastic ring from within, the large ring at top had a sheen of the soapy substance covering its open area. Donovan took a drag from his cigarette and blew gently into the ring, causing a multitude of smoky bubbles to issue from it and gently waft through the air of the room.

"Listen Constantine, I've heard all about your bullshit stories of how you fucked over Asmodeus, and managed to trick Satan himself out of something special. But I'm not so arrogant to believe your little parlor tricks.."

She raised a hand, stuck out a finger, and popped a bubble that wafted near her, coating her finger in the soapy-like substance. "...will fool..."

Suddenly all the bubbles in the room stopped in mid-float, oriented on Alice and shot at her in mass.

"...me. Oh shit..."

Alice tried throwing up a quick warding shield, but for every one that popped against the mystical shied, dozens of others burst against her clothes and skin.

"Well, here's the rub Love." Donovan took another drag on his cigarette, absently plucked a loose piece of tobacco from his tongue and flicked it away. "All those vacations to the Realm of the Damned, acquainted me with the various denizens of that little slice of damned paradise. Namely in the Centaurs that patrol the Seventh Circle."

Alice wiped the liquid from the burst bubbles from her eyes and away from her face, suddenly realizing that the liquid had a more putrid smell and oily-like feel. Nausea began rising from her stomach and a weakness began overcoming her, as if she was being slowly cut off from arcane mystical river from where her powers flow from.

"oh...oh my god...what is this stuff!" Alice wretched slightly.

"Well, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me. The Centaur's patrol the circle, firing their arrows at the damned that reside there...mainly the magical souls that used their powers for destruction and death. These arrows cut off their powers that the souls still retain, thus trapping them in the river Phlegethon. They coat their arrows with it.

"the...oh my god...the smell!!" This time Alice vomited forcefully on the floor. Wiping her lips she looked up at Donovan. "What....what is it...?"

Alice was still doubled over. While she had started to take Zatanna’s powers, her clothing had started to change. A side effect of those powers, she began to take on the appearance of that person, at least clothing wise. It didn’t happen all the time, but it had this time, and her clothes started the change back.

“You could have asked, nicely.”

“I did.” He said. “I told you I didn’t want to be a bad host. Now Cain has to clean all this stuff up and he’s not going to be happy about it at all. Making my life so much more annoying.” Donovan replied. “I thought you said Z was the most powerful magic user on the planet. I stopped you with bubbles.” He said.

“I may be that.” Camilla said, stepping over to where Alice was knelt over. “But she didn’t know how to use the magicks.”

Alice took a little step back when Camilla walked over.

“I’m not trying to hurt you more, I think Donovan has done that enough. What were you looking to take from me?” She asked.

“Some piece of cloth. I don’t know what was so special about it, but I was going to be getting paid a lot of money for it.” Alice said, slowly straightening. “Don’t suppose you’ll make this easy for me, do you?” She asked.

Camilla gave no response, but Donovan comically shook his head, slowly and with a face of total seriousness.

“What the hell is the cloth anyway?” Alice asked. “Whatever it is it’s drenched in energy. It’s not difficult to track, at all.”

You know it's a bad day when you jump out of bed and miss the floor.
"I declare War!!"~Peay

"That 'piece of cloth', as you so eloquently call it my little larcenist, is..."

"Donovan, perhaps we should keep this little thing close to the cuff." Camilla cut him off with a slight frown.

"What? You don't trust me?" Alice replied with some actual hurt in her voice.

"Well, lets see, you broke into Donovan's House." Camilla started.

"Tried...to break in." Donovan smirked. "And failed."

"Only because you recognized the skill and didn't want me to hurt your precious house." Alice crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed.

The lights in the room dimmed noticibly and a deep tone sounded, like two enormous timbers of wood rubbing together and causing everyone in the rooms very skeletal structures to literally vibrate within their skins.

Donovan merely smiled through it all, staring especially at Camilla's strapless top literally about to reveal her breasts due to the vibration. "Hhhow aaabout aaa tttone looower CCCaainn!"

"Donovan!!" Camilla shouted just as the sound and vibration ceased and brought with it a eerie silence.

Donovan shrugged with a grin. "Hey, can't blame a guy for admiring a lovely set of juggs."

"Anyway..." Donovan continued before Camilla could respond. "In an event of the nature that we are about to embark upon, I've found that all things are meant to happen for a reason. Fate is a finicky bitch..."

"How do you know Fate is a woman?" Camilla scowled at him.

Donovan looked at her as if she just asked him what 2+2 was. "Really? You're asking 'me' that?" Donovan shook his head. "Wow, just wow. Anyway...our little thief is here, meaning she is suppose to be here at this very moment in time, and that she has a destiny to fullfill, or Fate will get 'really' bitchy."

"But Donovan.."

"Listen Love, there is a reason Noel entrusted me with the Eye, and now the time has come and the Three Stooges are about to begin the test to replace this world's Sorcerer Supreme."

"Donovan!" Camilla shouted at his disrespect at the mystical triumvirate and then a stunned expression fell over her face. "Wait...what? The 'Eye'? You mean The Eye...you have it?!"

"The Three Stooges...The Eye? What the hell are to two talking about?!?" Alice asked in frustration.

Donovan rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sighed heavily. "Yes Love, I have the Eye, Orb and the Book." Then turning to Alice. "The Vishanti, to answer your question. You know...Baldy, Lettuce Head and the Pussy."

"DONOVAN!" Camilla shouted again in shock. "Show some respect!!"

"Oh please. Aga has a wicked sense of humor, and Oshy is quite a lovely and elegant woman...when she decides to actually have a body to go with the floating head bit. Hoggy, on the other hand...let's just say that he isn't a morning person...or a afternoon, nor evening either."

"I can't believe they let you...of all people...have the most sacred mystical items of all." Camilla stated as she shook her head.

"That's because Constantine is a disinterested, interested, third party in the up coming contest." Came a voice of a dark figure standing in the doorway of the house. The man was thin in form, wearing a black longcoat, complete with black rumpled shirt and pants. A thick shock of unruly hair spilled out from below a broad rimmed hat that sat haphazardly on the top of his head. "You see, Constantine doesn't have any want or desire for power. He is hellbent...no pun intended...to maintain the status quo, thus the great trust in his 'abilities'."

"'Bout time ya showed your ugly kisser Noel." Donovan stated with a wry smile, and for the first time did not complain about someone calling him Constantine. "An ya still owe me a couple thousand quid from the last poker game at Michelangelo's place."

“No, I simply balanced the scales, because someone else was trying to cheat. Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I also might have been drunk. I was drinking a lot more back then.” Noel said and walked past the two of them towards Alice.

“You were cheating?” She asked, giving Donovan a look.

“Trying to. He said trying to.” Donovan replied, pointing at Noel’s back. “Why does everyone always assume I’m cheating at something?” He asked with an annoyed look on his face.

“Because you brag about it incessantly.” Noel replied, back still turned, looking into Alice’s eyes. "Almost as incessantly as Camilla wants pancakes." He added.

Donovan snapped his fingers and nodded. “Fair enough. Are you interested in taking Alice here out on a date?” He asked. “Looking pretty deeply into those icy blue death queen eyes. She's not really my type and I think Camilla would have a heart attack if I dated Alice.” He added, and smiled at the dirty look that Alice threw him over Noel’s shoulder.

“No, I’m merely gauging her aura, to see what damage she did to my friend, and to see whether or not it’s permanent.” Noel said before Camilla could respond, and when Alice gave him a quizzical look, he explained. “That shaman whose powers you stole to attempt to gain purchase into this house? In the Himalayas? Donovan, you remember Jinpa, our guide when we were in the Himalayas, failing to find Cyttorak’s ruby gem?” He asked, and Donovan’s face changed.

He stepped up next to Noel and pointed in Alice’s face. “Jinpa has kids, did you know that? You better not have hurt him when you took his powers.”

“I didn’t know anything about that.” She replied. “So this cloth, it’s linked to control over the three Vishanti items.” Alice said. “That’s always good to know.”

“No, it’s more like a totem that grants the user the ability to try to control the three Vishanti items.” Noel said, stepping away. “After all, the items in question, well, they spent more time with Stephen Strange than anyone else, am I right?” He asked. Gone was the more serious demeanor and now was the joking face returned to his visage. This was the Noel Gabriele that Camilla and Donovan were more accustomed to. “Now, do you want to tell me who you were working for?” He asked. “I mean, I am asking nicely.”

Alice turned towards Camilla. “You know, maybe when you step on the other side of the tracks, you’ll know what it’s like to have to work for people you don’t always like.” She said with a spark in her eyes. “It’s all fine and dandy when you’re the little stage princess, but come to my side, and we’ll see how long you last.”

Camilla smirked. “Goes to show what little you know of me.” She replied.

“Back on track.” Noel said. “Are you going to tell us?” He asked and Alice shook her head. “No? I could conjure up monkeys that tickle you until you do.”

“Please, only serious threats.” Donovan said. “This house has a reputation, alright?” He looked at Alice. “You don’t like whoever hired you. Fine. You tell us who it is, and we can stop this person. Take them down.”

She shook her head. “It’ll destroy the reputation that I have. Who would want to hire me after that?” She asked. “No, my credibility is all that I have and I’m not about to throw it away just because you three think you have me in some bind. You don’t.”

“It’s not like you can just waltz on out of here.” Donovan said. “Trust me, the three of us will have nothing to do with it.” He said, waving a hand around and indicating the house itself. Donovan walked over to the fire place and took the poker in his hands, moving some of the embers around. “I want a name.” He said. “The nice way of asking is starting to get boring, Noel.”

“You’re the bore.” Noel said. “How about a game.” He said and turned to Alice. “I’ll take three guesses. You give me three clues.” He said. If I can’t guess the right name after the three guesses, you’re free to go.”

“If you do guess it?” She asked.

“You’re still free to go.” Noel said. “I’m not exactly a violent man.” He said. “But you do have to promise to tell the truth.” He added and Alice thought about it, before finally nodding.

“Your first clue is that he’s a man.”

“Oriuth.” Noel replied and she shook her head. He sighed and looked away, giving an exaggerated shrug.

“Your second clue is that he’s very powerful.” She said.

“Oriuth.” He said and she shook her head again.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked him.

“Many things. I turn toads into buttons and try to sew them onto coats.” Noel replied.

“Your final clue is that he could destroy little Cammie over there.” She said.

“Oriuth.” Noel said with confidence, and a winning smile.

Now Alice laughed. “With that kind of performance, I’m ready to give you as many guesses as you want.” She said.

“Great. Let me ask you a question first. Does he scare you?” He asked, and her face changed. His too had grown serious. Looking down, he started to play games with his hands, twisting his fingers around into ornate shapes. “Because I think he does.” He said, still looking at his fingers. “I think he scares you more than some of your more interesting clients.” Noel said. “Did you know that Alice here has worked for Mephisto before, Donovan?” He asked.

“Class act working for that guy.”

“I used the money to keep an orphanage in Louisiana afloat for eight months.” She said, turning and glaring at him. “What do you do with your ill gotten gain?”

“I drink it.” Donovan replied.

“So who could be more scary than one of the many, many lords of Hell?” Noel asked and started to walk around Alice, who closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m not telling you.”

“I know why you’re not going to tell me.” Noel said and he leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Because you don’t know who you’re working for.” He said. “Not directly, at least.”

She breathed out, opening her eyes. “I’ve never met him. But he scares me. Everything about him scares me. But I never met him, only someone who works for him.” Alice said.

“Gimme a name.” Donovan said, turning. “I want a name. Now.”

“His name is Ravenstone.” Noel said and Alice’s eyes widened. “Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t peek into your head for it.” He said. “I merely remembered what I know about who you’ve worked for in the past. Besides, Ravenstone hasn’t exactly been quiet about coming after the items that we have in our possession.” He said.

Noel sighed. "I suppose you could." He said. "Working for Ravenstone, I don't know if I would advise you to keep traveling down that avenue, Alice." He said.

"That's easy enough for you to say. I know the stories you." She said. "What's it been...fifty...sixty years?" She asked, and Noel smiled politely.

"The stories about me are much more palatable a pill than the nightmares, believe me. Lest I share them with you, we should talk of other things, yes?" He asked, and she nodded, noting the look of confusion on both Donovan and Camilla's faces. They didn't know what she was referring to. "Yes, I do believe you may leave. However, there is something that you're going to do first." He said, and produced the piece of Stephen Strange's cloak. Looking at it for a moment or two, he tore off a small piece and handed it to Alice, who now shared the same confused look as Donovan and Camilla, though the one on her face was one of far greater disbelief.

"I don't understand." Alice said, her eyes narrowing. "You're giving me what I came here to steal?" She asked.

"A piece of it." Noel replied. "You were honest and told me the truth. I know you won't tell your employer how you got this, merely that you got it. Rewarding good morals is something that we can both agree on isn't it?"

Alice looked down at the cloth in her hand and then back at Noel. "Will Jinpa be alright?" She asked and Noel thought about it for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Alright then, I guess this is my cue." She said, turning and heading for the door.

She stepped outside and was gone. They heard a small crack as she teleported away from the House.

"Now, how about a game of cards?" Noel asked, turning around and snapping his fingers as he tucked the remaining piece of cloth into a jacket pocket. When the other two looked at him, expecting an answer, he sighed. "Ravenstone is not a man to be crossed. I can't just let her leave without giving her something to bring back to him." He said. "I understand, I gave the man what he wanted. However, now we have the ability to track him, to follow his movements, and he will be none the wiser." Noel said. "Once we know what plot Ravenstone has in store, then we can counter it." He said.